A Dundie Realization
by daisydol
Summary: It was just a drunken, friendly kiss when Pam won her Dundie, but it gave Jim lots to think about after he went home. Please give feedback!


Set After "The Dundies

**Set After "The Dundies." Just a little one shot that I was thinking of after I saw that episode recently. Fluffy, just like I likes 'em. From my favorite pov, Jim. I loves me some reviews.**

Jim stood rooted to the spot where he'd said goodnight to Pam, watching as Angela's taillights became fainter, taking Pam home. Taking Pam home to Roy. He looked down at his shoes and started making his way to his car. What had started as a little crush from the moment he'd seen her was starting to turn into a much more complicated scenario. Complicated and utterly painful.

Mark was still up watching T.V. when he walked in, tossing his keys on the coffee table. He looked up at Jim and scowled.

"Looks like you had an awesome night." The sarcasm in his voice edged by underlying friendly concern.

"I did actually. Just tired."

"That douche Roy do something?" Mark asked, a Dorito finding its way into his mouth to punctuate his sentence.

_Besides exist? Besides get to go home, undeservingly, with the woman I-_

His mind stopped itself just short of the word that his heart knew was right. Jim needed to be alone. He needed to think.

"Naw, I barely saw him. Just exhausted from a lot of rewritten pop songs and inappropriate awards." He forced a smile for Mark's benefit. "Night man."

"Night."

Once in his bedroom Jim slid the door closed gently and began stripping out of his clothes. Once he was down to his undershirt and boxers he laid down on top of his comforter, his hands behind his head, and stared at the ceiling.

_With the woman I-_

He couldn't fool himself anymore. This was no longer a harmless crush. He used to be able to go home after nights like this and delude himself into thinking that he didn't have a serious problem, that it was a school boy's infatuation. He would tell himself that he wasn't that stupid to feel anything serious for a taken woman, a co-worker to boot.

She was his best friend. She was the first person he wanted to speak to in the morning and the last one he thought about before his head hit the pillow at night. He called her on the weekends to tell her that funny things were on T.V or to engage her aid in prank calling Dwight from outer space or the Secret Service.

She'd kissed him tonight. He felt tingly at the memory and couldn't help running one of his hands over his lips and then down over his chest, closing his eyes to remember how it had felt. It was so fast, but it had been full on his lips. She'd tasted like margaritas and about a half dozen other types of drinks that she'd been swiping from everyone. He smiled at how drunk she'd been.

He ran his hand absently down to his belly now, teasing the waistband of his boxers a bit. If he'd been a real ass, a genuine jerk of the male variety, he could have pressed her a bit. He could have insisted on driving her home himself, he could have seen if the liquor in her system would make her as bold alone with him as it had in the middle of a Chili's, holding her "Whitest Shoes" Dundie.

But he wasn't a jerk. He wasn't even close and all he'd wanted in that moment, aside from her lips on him again, was for her to be safe. So, he'd entrusted her to Angela, who he was sure drove no more than thirty miles per hour at all times. He entrusted her to Angela because his head was still buzzing and his heart was still pounding and he was still hard and he couldn't trust her with himself.

Painfully, his condition was still the same now almost an hour later. A mere crush couldn't make him feel this way. Make him react so strongly to a friendly brush of the lips. He let his hand slide inside his boxers, his arousal still evident.

He imagined her here with him, in his bed. Her lips had been soft and warm, would the rest of her be too? He'd imagined her here before, and if he was being honest, he was starting to imagine her naked in his arms not only in his bed but in all types of places. In the middle of Michael's ridiculous meetings, he would imagine popping open the buttons on her shirt and grazing her breasts with his fingers.

His breath was coming quicker and his thoughts were getting more detailed, of her light skin in the moonlight as she straddled him, her hair cascading all around her face in a halo of soft caramel curls. He sped up as he thought of how it would feel to be inside of her and he found blessed release at the thought of her moaning his name in the darkness of his room.

He lay spent for a moment, unable to move as the aftershocks that would have soothed him before gave way to a wrenching feeling in his heart. A revelation had hit him just as his orgasm had.

_The woman I love._

He'd known it, most of him wasn't surprised. It was just that in his vulnerable state tonight with the ever so brief feeling of her in his arms swimming in his mind, he no longer had the energy to hold the truth at bay.

_I'm hopelessly, deeply, madly in love with Pam Beesly. My best friend._

He got up to get fresh boxers and then lay back down, balling up his hands into fists and pressing them to his eyes in frustration. How could this have happened? He couldn't fool himself anymore, which scared him. If he couldn't fool himself, how was he going to fool anyone else? He could foresee the day that he finally could take no more and he would have to act on his feelings. He couldn't see anyway for that to go but badly.

He would just have to suffer in silence. Maybe it would pass.


End file.
